


(I Know I'm) Too Hard To Love

by Sootgremlins



Category: Guns N' Roses, Music RPF
Genre: Angst, Duff is a mother hen, Izzy acts like he doesn't care (he does), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Worth Issues, and Stevie just wants his drumsticks back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-23 05:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sootgremlins/pseuds/Sootgremlins
Summary: He's fucked up, no one's going to deny that.





	1. Welcome to My Darkness, I've Been Here a While

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely written so I'll post a chapter every day. (Chapter titles from Bishop Briggs 'Welcome To My Dark Side')

Axl isn’t sure when he first notices. Well, he is sure. He knows the exact moment when he’s standing in front of the mirror after his shower and something isn’t quite right.

You wouldn’t really notice if you weren't looking. But Axl was. There's just something that’s off about him. He can see it, but can’t say it. It goes deeper than the surface and Axl can’t find a word other than damage. He’s not perfect, he knows. How could he ever be even close to perfect? He wasn’t worth the trouble. 

So he built up his walls, drank, did drugs, radiated anger, and pushed everyone away. That was always the answer. Bad day? Get drunk, and act like a general asshole. Bad performance? Get high, act like an asshole. It was an almost perfect solution, except for the fact there’s always a fallout. He’ll wake up with his head pounding from last nights splurge of Jack Daniels, or itching for another fix. The cycle repeats. It never fixes the problem. He’s not even sure what the problem is at this point. He bites his lip as he turns in the mirror. Flaws. He was so full of flaws it hurt to look at. How the hell could anyone stand to be around him? 

Then, there’s Slash. Axl loves him (he may not say it enough, but the point still stands), but he just looks perfect. He plays perfect, fingers dancing across strings with dark hair over his eyes. He radiates something, and it just screams at Axl. Screams that he’s not good enough to be with him. He’s not talented enough, he doesn’t push hard enough, he isn’t enough. The voice in the back of his mind calling bullshit is smothered by the others telling him otherwise. Slash doesn’t have a fucked up head like he does.

There’s a rap at the door before it clicks open. Slash is standing in the doorway, hair brushed back from one side a little bit so Axl can see more of his face. He's smiling in that perfect fucking way he does, and Axl tries not to shrivel inside. He can feel his mind clicking into another mode, the one that leaves him scrambling for something to hold onto. He deserves so much better than some piece of shit like you, his brain supplies for him. The cigarette that hangs loosely from Slash's lips accompanied by the smell of leather, alcohol, and something very uniquely Slash that floats into the room.

“Babe,” Slash says and Axl tries not to shiver. It still sounds foreign rolling off of someone else's tongue. He swallows and tries to pull himself together, shove the thoughts to the back of his mind. 

“Hey,” Axl says, groping along the edge of the sink till his fingers curl around a hairbrush. He tries to look nonchalant as he runs it through his hair, staring at his reflection. He looks like shit. Being on the road, playing shows, drinking, getting high, just don’t make for a necessarily well-rested person. Slash is still standing there, eyes roaming his naked torso soaking in everything. He doesn’t flinch (a small miracle on its own) when Slash comes and stands behind him. He stands still when he feels arms wrap around his waist. Slash lets his chin rest on his left shoulder. Axl sets down the brush. He looks at both of them in the reflection of the mirror. He watches Slash take the cigarette from his lips and grind it into the white porcelain of the sink. Slash places a kiss onto his shoulder and he shivers. His eyes slip closed. He’s floating there, with warm lips on his neck and cold tile under his feet. Slash’s lips move up to his neck, and his head tilts to give him better access of its own accord. Slash is now working over his ear, and there's something about the feel of leather on his bare skin that is oh so good. It physically hurts him to move away.

He can’t do this, not tonight. Slash looks confused but makes no move to return to what he was doing. Axl almost wants him to continue, finish what he started, just to prove himself wrong. He doesn’t, for once he actually listens to Axl. He tries to keep everything together and brushes by his guitarist and into the bedroom. There's shit everywhere, bottles and clothes thrown around. They’ve only been here two days and it looks more like two months. The bed in the center of the room looks extremely welcoming.

Axl slides into the sheets and tries not to feel guilty when Slash is silhouetted in the doorway of the bathroom. He watches his fingers twitch like he’s looking for a smoke before he walks over to the bed. Axl buries his head in the pillow and listens to the sounds of clothes falling to the dirty floor. The bed dips beside him and a weight settles against his back.

Slash feels solid behind him, with his nose buried in Axl’s hair. Axl knows that Slash will give him space if he asks. He would understand. When they all started out together, living in the streets half the time, they all got used to the moods he would sink into. He doesn’t really want space though. He wants someone to hold him and tell him it’s okay (even if it’s so far from the truth) and not let him go. He closes his eyes against the burn of tears that shouldn’t be there. He has no reason to cry. He forces himself to not think, to just sleep and let himself fade away.

In the hazy moment, before he slips away, he hears the man behind him say something, “I love you.”

They don’t do this part very well. I love you, is reserved for when Slash thinks Axl is asleep. I love you, is for when Axl knows Slash is so drunk he won't remember anything the next day. I love you is something one person says and the other knows. I love you too, Axl thinks. Then he’s gone with a soft breath.  
~~~  
The next morning Axl wakes up to cold sheets, a pounding headache, and a knock at his door. He growls and screws his eyes shut. Way too early to deal with anyone's shit. He props himself up and notices there's Advil on the bedside table with a half glass of water. He’s almost angry that Slash would do that, of course, he cares that much. He grabs the pills and pops them in his mouth, and takes a gulp of water. The knocking on the door starts up again. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and groans. 

Before he can get up, the door opens. Duff is standing in the doorway looking way to put together for whatever god-awful hour of the morning it is. He crosses his arms as he takes stock of the room, eyes filtering from the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels near the foot of the bed to Slash’s jacket thrown over the couch.

“Ever heard of fucking knocking,” Axl snaps. It hardly sounds intimidating from his point of view curled up in the sheets.

“Yeah, but I guess some assholes just don’t know what to do if someone knocks on their door,” Duff huffs as he walks into the room sidestepping a pizza box.

“I was asleep,” Axl says, almost whining. Duff throws open the curtains and Axl hisses and presses his face into the pillow. Duff chuckles as he kicks an empty beer bottle away from the bed.

“Slash told me to check on you,” Duff says as if that answers all of life’s questions. Axl knows what that means. It’s code for: your-boyfriend-is-worried-but-he-won’t-say-anything-so-he-sent-me. It’s not the first time they’ve gone through these motions. 

Axl contemplates saying something snarky back or storming into the bathroom. Before he could do either, the door flies open and slams against the wall. Axl flinches at the loud sound that echoes around inside his head. Steven almost falls through the doorway as he stumbles to a halt.

“Duff, Izzy took my drumsticks!” Steven pants slightly out of breath. Axl doesn’t have to be looking up to know that Steven is getting the death glare from Duff. He’s been on the receiving end enough times. 

“Why do I get the feeling there was a reason for that?” Duff says evenly. He’s sat down on the bed, and Axl has the urge to go curl up next to him. 

“I needed to practice,” Steven whines and Axl smiles into the crook of his arm. They’re all very familiar with Steven’s ‘practice’. With drumsticks, anything can become a drum and Steven is the king of constantly banging away on anything and everything.

Duff takes a deep breath, and Axl is pretty sure he’s nursing a hangover himself, “I’m sure Izzy will give them back if you ask.” Steven starts to say something else and Axl can hear his jaw clack shut and he assumes Duff must have finally communicated something through his look. Axl rolls out of bed after the door clicks shut. 

“Do you wanna talk?” Duff says, still seated on the bed. Axl snorts as he sniffs a shirt he had picked up from the floor. He pulls it on and runs a hand through his hair. He’s okay at the moment, he still has a handle on his mind.

“Sure, should I start up a chick flick too? Maybe you can braid my hair and we can cry together while we’re at it,” Axl says still not looking over at Duff. Belatedly, he realizes he’s put on Slash’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt. 

The bed creaks as Duff stands. He walks over toward the door, but pauses, “I’m serious. If you need me, I’ll be here.” Axl flips him off without sparing a glance over his shoulder.

When the door closes Axl slumps onto the couch. Slash’s jacket is next to him and he picks it up. He presses his nose to the leather and takes a deep breath. He needs to get his shit together, and soon.

He can keep it together for the rest of the tour. He’s gotten good at bottling it all up. 

So, he gets up pulls on a pair a pair of pants that cling so tightly it’s borderline uncomfortable, and laces on his shoes. He squares his shoulders and raises his walls before stepping out into the hallway. Walking on the dirty carpet he opens the next door down from his room. 

Steven is sitting in the middle of the room, shity TV flickering in front of him. Duff is sitting with his legs curled under him tucked into the couch. Izzy is leaning against the head of one of the beds with a pair of drumsticks in one hand and a magazine in the other. Slash isn’t anywhere to be seen. Duff and Steven lookup, Izzy doesn't even flinch. Duff’s room always seems to be the central hub of activity even when they all have their own room.

“Hey,” Axl says. He casually strides across the room and sits down next to Duff. He gets a look from him, which he ignores, and tries to focus on the TV. He shifts, trying to get comfortable.

“You guys are fighting,” Izzy announces from the bed. Everyone knows he means Axl and Slash.

“How would you know?” Axl sneers across the room, hoping the issue doesn't get pushed too far. 

“You didn’t fuck last night, I would have heard. That only happens when you’re fighting,” Izzy shrugs not even looking up from his magazine. Bastard. 

Duff chokes on air and Steven cackles from the floor. Axl feels his face heat up and he flings a pillow across the room. Izzy ducks it easily and smirks at Axl, “Am I wrong?”

“We’re not fighting, asshat,” Axl growls crossing his arms.

“Sure, that's why Duff went to check on you and why Slash left this morning,” Axl is mad now. He wishes Izzy was wrong. That he could snap right back at him and they wouldn’t have to deal with this. But he does. Instead, he looks back at whatever stupid show Steven was watching. The flashes of the TV fall on blind eyes. Axl crosses his arms over and pulls himself tight hoping no one else will bring it up. 

He’s fine. Slash will come back, drunk and maybe high, but fine. They’ll kiss and makeup. Axl will go back to yelling at everyone and they’ll play the gig tonight. Things will be fine. They always turn out fine in the end.


	2. Clouding Up the Sunlight, Hurting for a Smile

Slash finds himself chasing the bottom of a bottle at 10 o’clock in the morning. It’s probably not the wisest thing to do. There’s almost no one else in the bar, spare the worried looking bartender who is eyeing him like a wild animal. He probably looks like it. He didn’t want to be drinking like this so early, but the alternative harbored more consequence. His fingers itch to get ahold of a needle.

He has to have some of his wits about him, of course. They do have a show tonight and he can’t afford to make Axl even pissier than he is already by fucking up on stage. The thought leads him back to why he’s here in the first place, Axl. He’s not sure if they’re fighting. Yet. He’s just giving Axl some space. Slash doesn’t blame him, being cooped up in a dingy room with the only promise of freedom being the concert that seems so far away from the dark overcast morning. Then again, he knows Axl. Hell, he knows him almost better than he knows himself. So when Axl starts to snap at him for showing any form of affection, he’ll take his cue. 

His thumb runs across his lips, his other hand still wrapped around a beer bottle. When he had woke up this morning Axl had been on the farthest point of the bed possible to him. He had dug around his bag and put a glass of water and painkillers on the table by the bed. He had pulled on a hoodie and tied his hair back in a hope to go out as some poor bastard looking for a drink and not the Guns N’ Roses guitarist. Then he had knocked on Duff’s door and was answered by an exasperated Duff and the sound of someone beating against something plastic that sounded suspiciously like a drum solo. Duff had taken one look at him and sighed. There was no need to say anything. Slash turned and walked down the hallway. The door shut.

Now, here he was. It felt too stupid, they weren't even fighting. There was just some gut instinct that something wasn't right. He wasn’t good at making things better with Axl. They just ignored the problem until it was a huge one, and let it blow up in their faces. There was something that kept them from leaving though. He would never leave Axl, not for good. He would just give him space.

He stands up and throws some cash down on the bar. When he walks out the door he slightly thanks whoever made a bar so close to their hotel. It's only a block before he back inside, taking the elevator up to their floor. He pauses in the hallway. Which room should he go to? Stealing his resolve, he knocks on Duff’s room. 

He’s lost again in his thoughts when Izzy opens the door, “You’re still alive. That’s good.”

“Axl?” Slash asks. Izzy rolls his eyes and sighs as if this was possibly the most stupid thing to ever come out of Slash’s mouth.

“They all went to the rehearsal. Which is where I’m supposed to be, but I’m here making sure you come back alive,” Izzy pauses and picks at a fingernail still barring the doorway, “Why are you fighting anyway?”

“We’re not,” Slash says and it comes out a little bit too close to a whine then he would care to admit. Izzy’s eyebrows shoot up and he shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

“Right, that’s why Axl looks like he’s about to have some sort of breakdown. Please, for my sake, don’t fuck this up,” Izzy says. “We should get going.”

Slash doesn’t give Izzy much room to brush past him into the hallway. He walks back to his room and changes into a reasonably clean shirt and grabs his leather jacket. He fiddles with his sunglasses. 

He hates not knowing. He’s good at hiding it, he can act like he doesn’t give a fuck, but it doesn’t stop his mind from running wild when he’s alone. He hates being alone, and so does Axl. It’s part of why it works. He can be with Axl, they can both accept they’re sort of fucked up and move on. When he’s alone it doesn't work.

He makes it to the studio, and when he does, Axl doesn’t look at him. He’s too busy warming up. Steven looks all too happy to be behind some actual drums. Duff gives him a look like he can smell the booze on him, why is he such a goddamn mother hen? It's not like Duffs suddenly gone sober. Izzy spares him a loaded look before going back to tuning his guitar. He fidgets, feeling like an outsider, even though he of all people shouldn’t. So he grabs his guitar and makes sure to focus on that, and doesn’t say a word. 

When Steven looks up and announces they should go eat, Slash is relieved. Or worried. Or maybe both. Putting down his guitar means he’ll have to look up. It means he’ll see Axl not looking at him. What did he do? There’s nothing in recent memory that he can think of that would have made Axl mad at him. It wasn’t anyone's birthday, no anniversaries of anything, no holidays he’s missed. Hell, he was fine till last night. He hears the others talking, and soon he’s swept out to the street. Izzy calls two cabs and Slash ends up seated with Axl while Izzy, Duff, and Steven cram into the other.

Axl looks at him but says nothing. Slash doesn't say anything else either. When they get to the little dinner that Steven had picked, Slash thinks he might suffocate in the silence. He jumps out and almost jogs inside. Duff gives him a heated look but doesn’t say anything either. 

~~~

By some small miracle, they make it to the show without anyone dying. Axl gets out on stage at a reasonable time, no hiccups yet. He sings his heart out. He always tries to, he can channel all the emotion he won’t deal with into his singing. He can belt out the lyrics and yell and prance around the stage. But tonight, he pours it all in. Everything. And the fans seem to love it. 

He’s halfway through It’s So Easy when he realizes that at some point he’ll have to have some interaction with Slash. Instead of giving in yet he makes a pass by Duff, leaning on him and not missing a beat. He sees Slash in the corner of his eye, dark hair over his face, hat on top of that. He looks like he normally does, and Axl wishes that it could just be like it normally was too. Steven pounds away at his drum kit and the rest of the noise falls into place in a beautiful organized chaos.

When the shows over they all make their way off stage. He makes a grab at a bottle JD that he had left in their room and takes a swig. The burn is all too familiar to him. Izzy makes a passing suggestion of going to go get some drinks and Axl begins the journey of dogging fans and sneaking into shitty bars.

~~~

The bar is dimly lit, and stuffed full of people. By some small miracle, no one has mobbed them yet. Steven comes back to the table holding more beers than Axl had thought physically possible. He sets them down and flops into the booth beside Slash. Axl takes a long pull from the glass and sets it back down on the table. Duff is chatting to Izzy, and the soft buzz of the rest of the bar drowns out the silence. 

Axl feels a little bit better. He’s exhausted from the show, everyone is, but all in all, he feels better. He considers talking to Slash. He looks at the man across from him but is met with no returning glance. He takes another gulp of his drink. 

After ten or so minutes Slash gets up and nudges Steven over so he can go to the bar. Axl watches as he walks across the floor. Slash leans into the wood surface and asks the woman behind the bar something. Instead of going to go get drinks, she smiles and turns toward Slash. Axl feels his blood pressure spike. Duff and Izzy have stopped talking and Axl is worried he’s going to crack the glass with the force of his grip around it. 

He watched the woman slowly get more relaxed with Slash before Axl springs up. He storms across the room and grabs the back of the other man’s jacket. Slash spins around and Axl has to dig his nails into his palm to keep himself from decking him right there. He drags Slash out the door and doesn’t stop. There's not much resistance when he slams him back against the brick of a dumpy alley next to the bar.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Axl grits out pushing Slash’s shoulders back to he hears leather scrape on the brick.

“Right now? Oh, I’m being pushed around by some asshole,” Slash snears. Axl knows Slash could easily push him out of the way. He could have brushed off Axl’s grip in the bar. He didn’t, that must mean something.

“Don’t be a smartass!” Axl yells, “chatting up that chick while I watched you!”

Slash shrugs the best he can, “Well at least someone will talk to me.”

“You fucker, you haven't tried to talk to me all day!” Axl growls.

“Didn’t see you try either, dumbass,” Slash says and he shoves Axl away from him. He doesn’t move though. He stays against the wall with Axl seething in front of him. 

Axl is livid, “You could at least act like you care!”

“And if I don’t?”

“Fuck you!”

“What, this is what you do? ‘No one loves me, oh, why don’t you care?’,” Slash mimics, “You know what, if you weren't so fucking self-absorbed, you might see that other people have problems too! You whine about no one loving you, well, I wonder why? Maybe because of the shit like this that you pull.”

Slash knows he went too far with that. It’s below the belt even for them. Axl’s face drops and so does Slash’s heart. He hadn’t meant it. Fuck, he had messed up big this time.

“Fine,” Axl spits and he turns on his heel. He disappears into the night and Slash is too slow to follow. He darts out of the alley looks left and right and runs back to the bar. There’s no sign of Axl. Duff is looking worried, and Izzy and Steven are both staring at the door. 

“Did Axl come back?” Slash asks, still out of breath from sprinting back.

Duff stands up, “No, what the hell happened?” 

“I fucked up. I need to find him,” Duff licks his lips and nods. Slash knows they’ll talk later, but now they need to find Axl. They spill out onto the street, but no one seems sure how to go about this. It’s almost funny, Slash thinks, the most dangerous band in the world out running through the streets in the middle of the night. Izzy gives him a look that could kill, promising untold horrors if they don’t find Axl.

“He’s probably back at the hotel, I’ll walk back with Stevie, you fuckers go a different way back and we’ll see if we can catch up,” Duff nods toward their small group. Slash swallows and nods back numbly. They split, Izzy taking a turn down some of the back alleys and Duff and Steven walking back, calling out Axl’s name. 

“Fuck,” Slash breathes out as he quickly starts his own search. He’s dead tired, it’s been a long day but right now he doesn’t even need drugs to keep his eyes open.


	3. Or Something, but Something Always Turns into Nothing

Chapter?  
Axl slams to door shut with a force that it makes it shake in the frame. His vision is blurred by hot tears that have yet to fall. Because he will not cry, because he doesn't cry. He won’t cry. He fumbles to lock the door because there is no fucking way he’s going to deal with anyone right now. There’s white-hot rage wrapped in black sorrow and it bubbles from him and seeps out. He kicks the wall and slumps down into a corner. Everything hurts, it’s too much. He just wants it all to stop. He wants it all to go away he wants everyone to go away. Wants away from Duff’s worried words, Izzy’s knowing looks, Steven’s well-meaning advice. Wants away from Slash because of course, he’s stupid enough to have thought that someone loved him. No one does, he hates himself and he can only imagine what the others think of him sometimes. But now the gradual build-up of events have crashed the truth of what Slash thinks down on him. He doesn’t see the love there.

There’s someone banging at the door and he covers his ears and just yells and screams, to please, please just go away. He feels his throat going raw as he yells and curses and drowns out everything. His fingers dig into his scalp and the pain is sharp, but it’s grounding. It feels like he may float away and never come back. Just leave his body slumped in the corner of this shity hotel and forget about his shity life and shity thoughts. He feels like he’s burning like his clothes are suddenly sandpaper and they rip at his skin. His muscles are so tense, like he could just run, and run, and run and never stop.

He stops screaming at some point and he’s too drained to care about whatever the hell the manager of the hotel is going to do to him. He uncurls from his ball and lets his hands fall to his lap. He’s barely shaking now and he can see even though his eyes that still burn a little bit. He stands up and leans on the wall for support. He makes it to the shower and practically falls in it and he turns on the water not caring that he’s still fully clothed. It’s so hot and it burns when it worms its way over his body. He curls up in the back and lets the hot water beat down on him. 

Time must pass differently in this world, Axl thinks. The water ran cold a while ago but it feels like he’s only been there for seconds. And suddenly, there are hands on him. He wants to flinch and run away and scream, but there is no energy left in him. The hands are familiar, warm and calloused as they gently pull him out of the shower. He must be dreaming because it feels like Slash. Slash- or dream Slash- is pulling off his wet clothes. He’s freezing, Axl releases. He’s shaking and trembling. He whimpers when the hands pull off his shirt, his arms sore from being so tense. The hands' pause, and slow down their progress on taking off his wet clothes.

There are words too, but Axl can’t hear them well. They seem nice. They seem like something you would say to calm someone down. He’s already calm. Maybe he’s finally dead, that might be it. The hands won’t let him leave yet. 

~~~~~~~

After Slash makes it back to the hotel he finds Steven waiting at the goddamn door, and pulling him up the stairs towards their rooms. Then Duff and Izzy and yelling at him and pointing at the door to Axl and his room. And fuck, is that Axl making that noise? There's no time to bask in the momentary relief of knowing that he’s at least alive. 

Slash is panicking. Full on shaky hands and racing heartbeat. After he manages to get the key in the lock (the hotel gonna sue or some shit at this rate) he notices several things. One, there’s a hole in drywall. Two, the showers on. Three, Axl isn’t screaming anymore. 

Duff is behind him in the doorway and he practically shoves him forward. “Take care of him,” and then he’s gone, just like that. It’s trust, he realizes. Duff trusts him to fix this, just as Axl had trusted him to take care of him.

He stumbles through the room into the bathroom. Axl is curled up in the shower and he looks like a kid cowering from something. He’s still dressed, jacket and shoes soaking wet. Red hair plastered down against his scalp. He’s quiet now. Slash drops to his knees which make harsh contact with the hard floor. He reaches in and he’s calling Axl, but there’s no response. The water is freezing, how long has he been in there? It could be the adrenaline, but Axl ways nothing when he tugs him out of the stream of water.

Autopilot clicks on in Slash’s brain and he tries to start pulling off Axl’s sopping wet clothes. He stops when Axl whimpers, and he can’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Carefully, he tries to finish, but Axl isn’t helping, worse yet, he’s not fighting it either. That's never a good sign- Axl never goes willingly to anything or anyone. He’s just there not doing anything. He really wishes Duff was here because it’s Duff who deals with shit like this. He’s not good with this, doesn't know what to do. He’s never had to deal with this before and he hopes he never will again. 

His instinct tells him to get Axl warm. So after he’s stripped of everything he picks him up and takes him to the bed. Axl is still shaking and he clings to the lapel of Slash’s jacket like it's the last thing tying him down to Earth. Something, it’s something. He lays him down and pulls back to take off some of his clothes. Axl starts crying then, and Slash feels like he might too. He’s back against him in a moment and words spill from his lips.

“I’m so, so sorry, Axl. I love you. You’re fucking perfect. Shit, I’m so sorry. I love you,” he’s pretty sure there’s no way Axl is getting half of this, but fuck, he needs to do something. They’ve both been in so many situations where they could do nothing. Just watching in a sick and twisted turn of events, a cruel third-person narration. 

“Sorrysorrysorry, s-sory,” Axl slurs out, but the words come fast and quiet. Slash knows he’s crying now, his face is hot against the cold wet of the red hair against his cheek.

“Not your fault babe, never yours,” Slash whispers and squeezes him as tight as he can. He pulls the blanket over them and doesn’t let go. He’s not sure he could if wanted to. He rubs up and down the cold skin of his back, feeling the tight muscle stretched over ribs.

~~~~~~~

Duff is worried. He wants to go make sure Axl is okay. He wants to go get a drink and a smoke and then maybe just a little something to get him high. Fuck it, a big something to get him high. Or all of those things. Definitely all of them. 

He can’t because Slash will be good to Axl (if he isn’t he’s as good as dead) and because Steven is asleep across his lap, and Izzy is drifting off leaning on his right shoulder. This is trial by fire. Either Axl and Slash make it out of this together or they come away split, and whatever happens at this point is up in the air. It’s like watching one of those stupid documentaries that come on TV, where the camera only watches when a hunter stalks the prey. He can’t do anything to help in either case. 

He sits there for another few minutes, makes sure Izzy has finally passed out before slipping off the bed. They’re all dead tired from playing, then running through the streets screaming for Axl. He knows how hard it must be on Izzy too, watching Axl fall apart like this. Steven whines in his sleep at the loss of his human pillow and slings an arm around Izzy tugging him closer. Duff smiles before he slips from the room.

When he sneaks into Axl’s room he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Slash is wrapped around Axl (who’s asleep, thank God), but Slash is still awake. Duff walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. Axl’s hair looks damp, and so do Slash’s eyes. He won’t say anything. 

“Was he alright?” Duff asks. Laying his hands on his lap, staring down at them. 

Slash blinks like he’s just noticed the other man, “No.”

Duff nods, “Will he be?”

“I don’t know.” The silence fills the air, thick and heavy. 

“I don’t blame you,” Duff says as he picks at a loose thread on his ripped jeans. Not sure what he has to say here, let alone do.

“You should.”

Duff sighs, “He needs you. It’ll get better, but he needs you.” It’s funny how he’s saying that. They all know Axl, but at the same time, they don’t. Duff feels for Axl when he swings into one of his moods that can last hours or days, he knows a thing or two about when your mind refuses to obey you. 

Slash nods and he buries his nose into the top of Axl’s head, “I love him, Duff.”

The words are muffled, but Duff nods again, “You’d better.” 

He gets up and walks out of the room. He briefly contemplates going back to his room. Instead, he walks down the stairs and outside. Leaning back against the stone of the building, he digs in his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. Lighting it, he takes a drag and closes his eyes. He knows the others think he worries too much. He just wants to keep his family together. He knows it’s the only real family any of them have ever really had. He listens to the sound of cars driving by on the road in the dim glow of the light from the hotel.

The door opens and more light spills out into the night. Steven stands there, looking half-asleep. A moment later Izzy comes to stand beside him. Steven walks to his side and leans against him. Duff puts his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. Izzy floats by the door for a moment before he comes to Duff’s other side. He doesn’t seek physical comfort as Steven does. He just wants another's presence. Duff can give both. 

“Is Axl okay?” Steven whispers and it sounds loud in the night air. Izzy looks at Duff, searching for answers there. 

“Axl will be okay, Stevie,” Duff says squeezing him a little. Duff offers Izzy a cigarette which he takes gratefully and more smoke blossoms in the air. He needs to keep an eye on them both. Can’t let Izzy wander off like this, God knows when he’ll come back. He knows if Steven is alone for too long he’ll plunge straight back into hard drugs with no sign of coming back to the surface. 

Duff’s fingers rub circles into the drummer’s shoulder, and he yawns. Izzy chews on his bottom lip and kicks at a pebble on the ground. They can hold this together for a little bit longer.


	4. 'Til There's Nothing Left but Your Blood Shot Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end!

Axl knows he’s dreaming. It’s the kind where you are painfully aware that it is a dream, but there's not much you can do. He’s alone, and it’s warm. Which is odd considering circumstances. It’s so warm compared to the cold he knows awaits for him when he does open his eyes. Floating in the middle of nothing. Then the scene shifts, he’s at a wedding. There are people, some people that look familiar, others total strangers- the kind that seems to fill the backdrop of dreams. Nameless shells of people that stare forward to the front of the room. There’s only one person he knows for sure. Slash is standing at the end of the aisle. Axl wants to run to him, but he’s frozen in place. Slash's eyes are looking right through him and yet there's no one else Axl can see behind him. Someone pushes past him. It’s the bride. Axl can’t see her face, but she walks toward Slash, and he knows that she’s not going to stop. He only gets to watch as Slash smiles at her and not him. The dream seems to drift and the rooms switch, but he can only catch snatches of what's happening. The rooms dissolve and suddenly he’s running. He doesn’t know where, but he knows he needs to run. He needs to not look back. He runs and he feels something chasing him, but he won’t look back. He keeps running and running, except he's not, it's like he's skirting over the ground. It’s the blind primordial fear of being chased and hunted that only seems to touch back to us in dreams. 

“Axl, sweetheart! Come back to me,” he opens his eyes. Slash is leaning over him, hands framing his face. He looks scared and Axl feels like this is all just another part of the dream. Things are changing so fast, he's not dreaming but he feels like he's not awake yet. He’s getting reruns of all his worst fears, so what’ll this one be?

“You’re okay, it’s just a dream,” Slash plants a kiss on his forehead and Axl makes his breath even out. It doesn’t feel like a dream, and this is too good for his sick mind to cook up. The way Slash's loose curls tickle at his cheeks is something that wouldn't happen in a dream.

This is a cruel, twisted joke of fate. Slash told him all he needs to know. He won’t come back for Axl, so this is just a continuation of the dream, perhaps it’s what he’s running from. Slash has no reason to come back except maybe the band. How ironic, the one saving grace of his miserable life is the one that brings him to his knees. He closes his eyes. It feels so real like someone is laughing and rubbing it. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Slash whispers. Axl wants to cry again. He's trying to think straight, but his mind seems to fall behind. What about Izzy, Duff, and Steven? What are they going to do about him? 

“I’m sorry I’m too hard to love,” Axl says, because why not just put everything out there at this point. It's a little late to have second thoughts about sharing how he feels.

“No, princess, you’re not. Fuck, listen to me. You are not too hard to love. I love you. Hear me? I. Love. You,” There's that pet name that he hates, what Slash calls him when he starts getting sappy. Axl feels his forehead being pressed to Slash’s. 

“You came back,” Axl asks weekly because his voice still hurts and so does the rest of him. He's falling back together in pieces, each settling over the other. Thoughts and feelings shifting back into place.

“Of course I did. I could never leave you,” Axl opens his eyes. There’s a tear running down Slash's cheek and Axl catches it with a brush of his thumb. The other man takes a shuddering breath and drops his head into the crook of Axl’s neck. Axl just holds him when Slash seems to collapse down on top of him.

Slash is mumbling ‘sorry, god, Axl, so sorry’ like a mantra and Axl just clings to him. They hold each other and for the first time in days, he doesn’t feel like he’s going to float away. 

He pushes at Slash till he lets up, who wipes face on the hem of his shirt. Axl tucks his hair back as best he can before he pulls his lips down to meet again. Slash is gentle and he moves like he's worried Axl might break or snap. Axl pushes harder, hoping that he can convince him that he's okay.


	5. Take My Time 'Til I Show You How I Feel Inside

They’re laying there for what feels like hours. Slash doesn’t ever let his grip falter. Axl has his fingers buried in Slash’s hair, and nothing has ever felt better. Slash is practically laying on top of Axl, rubbing patterns into his side.

“Is everyone else here?” Axl asks at some point. Last night is mostly a blur of emotions that cloud his head. There are only tiny gaps through the fog that he can remember.

“Duff has Steven and Izzy in the other room,” Slash answers kissing Axl’s cheek, then lightly over his lips. “Do you want to go see them?”

Axl nods from his position curled against Slash’s chest. Slash carefully untangles himself from Axl and grabs a pair of boxers to throw to him. When Axl manages to pull them on, Slash scoops him up, ignoring the small squeak of surprise he gets in return. Axl clings to his neck and giggles when Slash kisses the top of his head. Fuck, how Slash has missed that sound. The funny part is that no one would believe Axl Rose could even come close to making that sound. 

"Fucker," Axl grumbles under his breath as Slash walks toward the door. 

Most of the time he would feel offended that Axl would go see everyone else before staying in bed with him, but this is different. He may be part of Axl, but so are the others. There just as much a unit as the two of them together.

He walks into the hallway, the passage empty of people, thank God. The door to the second room is unlocked and Slash manages to open it without putting Axl down. When they walk inside, he sees the three other men all crammed into one bed together despite the fact they have four rooms, they all chose one king-sized bed. 

They’re all still asleep and Axl has managed to get a hand in his hair again (he’s not complaining), as they walk over to the bed. The room is quiet except for the soft snores of Steven and even breathes of Duff and Izzy. Duff looks exhausted and he feels bad to wake him. Sometimes he forgets that Duff isn’t just watching out for him, he looks at the rest of their fucking band and then some.

“Hey, assholes, wake up!” Axl crows from his secure hold in Slash’s arms jolting everyone out of the silence. Good to see he’s feeling better. Slash has never been more happy to hear Axl be obnoxious. Izzy jerks awake first, almost pushing Steven off of where he’s sandwiched himself across both Duff and Izzy (how did he manage to fall asleep there?). Duff stretches and blinks at the half-naked forms of Axl and Slash like Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny had just made a surprise appearance in his room. Steven just rolls over and pulls half the blanket onto himself. 

He lets Axl down onto the bed, and he promptly crawls up towards the others. Duff glances at Slash, and all he can do is smile because for once, things are looking to be alright. Steven is awake now, and he hugs Axl, still half-asleep and only really managing to give him a brief pat on the back. Slash sits down and the foot of the bed, which looks about ready to give out the combined weight of five men. He yawns and watches Axl throw himself down on top of the pile of bodies and worm around trying to get comfortable.

“This bed is not made for five fucking people, Axl,” Izzy whines when he gets a mouthful of Axl’s red hair in his face. Slash chuckles and stretches out the best he can and lays down on his side.

He looks at Axl, looks at his best friends, looks at his family. He looks at his home. His home looks back and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone liked it! Feel free to come chat with me if you want on tumblr (@youre-in-the-jungle-baby) :)

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drive for almost a year, so it's time it saw the light. Feedback is great!


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